


Warmth

by sophiecognito



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9074605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiecognito/pseuds/sophiecognito
Summary: On the death of a family.





	

i. _Mother_

She doesn’t remember her mother.

Jyn realizes this late one night, the kyber crystal dangling in its leather cord wrapped around her hand. It swings lifelessly, no light to reflect. The crystal says nothing of the past, of its previous owner. Jyn doesn’t ask of it, either. 

No, it isn’t as if she doesn’t remember her mother. Her name Jyn chants alongside her father’s. She admits she forgot her face, years ago, her face slipping through her fingers like fine sand. 

She does remember her warmth. It isn’t required to have a face, that warmth. It’s a caring embrace, a caress as she slides Jyn’s hair away from her face. A kiss goodbye. A voice, strong despite its trembling saying to trust—to trust in the Force. 

No. She doesn’t remember, but maybe that’s okay. She presses the crystal against her forehead before she rests it around her neck, cool against her flushed skin. Jyn tries to dream of her mother.

It’s a dreamless night. 

ii. _Father_

He’s still warm, even in the rain.

There’s chaos all around, the whiz of blasters, the shouts of fallen men, but it matters not to Jyn. Her father is here, his image rekindled by a hologram mere hours ago, and now here, in flesh and blood. It’s so easy, to recall a memory once long buried, like a lone spark lighting a cave on its own.

The words they exchange are not important, but the intimacy they stole in the middle of the carnage was. Jyn’s sure the droplets falling against her father’s face are the rain alone. Jyn’s also sure the rain takes the blame for her blurry vision.

Her fingers clench that blasted Imperial uniform. That jacket’s both her father and not and she can’t form any thoughts about it, ideologies be damned for just a moment, _please_.

He’s still warm when Cassian rips her away from his body. He’s gone, he says over the rain, half dragging, half shoving and Jyn wants to disagree, but her fingers have lost his warmth already.

iii. _Daughter_

The way down takes less time than the way up.

It’s a silly thing to think, now of all times. Cassian is quiet besides her and Jyn shares the silence. The lift creaks as they lean against each other. There’s no relief sagging their shoulders, only exhaustion. 

Their descent ends with a clank, the grates parting to show one of the scattered beaches of Scarif.

The first thing that hits Jyn is the heat in the air; it clings to her clothes as they limp toward the shore. Already the sky bleeds orange and it isn’t the sunset. Jyn drops to the sand, helping Cassian down and there isn’t much to say now, is there? The water laps at their boots, a momentary, yet useless relief.

It’s when their gazes meet that it cascades over Jyn. The cloud looms closer the more she looks at it, but her heart beneath the kyber crystal is steady. The silence breaks only for the waves. Jyn cannot bring herself to break it and neither does Cassian. Understanding, she thinks distantly.

Her hand is clammy as she intertwines it with Cassian’s. His is warm, a comfort far better than she expected.

Jyn feels Cassian bury his head against her shoulder. She does nothing of the sort. She owes it to herself to not close her eyes. Saw’s last words echo in the incoming dust cloud. She won’t hide anymore, even if it’s only in her last moments. 

The warmth envelops them.


End file.
